When The Sun Goes Down
by kasplosion
Summary: A cold winter’s night dawns upon a boy and a girl whose feelings have been left unsaid and unheard of. AU Zutara


A/n: I barely have any idea what this is, but I have a vague idea of where it will go. Kind of. Anyways. Angst and Zutara are both genre-things I haven't written much of, but everyone's gotta have angst and Zutara's been growing on me for the past year. It was bound to happen. Anyways, 'bout time, From Spark To Flame, huh? xD Enjoy, thanks.

Inspiration from Don't Stop Believin by Journey. I don't own anything.

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**When The Sun Goes Down**

Katara can't remember the last time she gave herself a break. Everyone tells her she deserves one; they're the ones that give her time off. She doesn't tell them that once they leave her by herself, she gets back to work.

She's fully able to relax, she just doesn't let herself, she can't—the last time she relaxed, she was six, and a siren screamed—she won't.

If she works, her mind busies itself. If she works, no one questions her state of being. If she works, her emotions remain bottled and she's _fine_ (the word doesn't have a meaning any more).

It's a typical Friday night for Katara: homework, laundry, dishes, whatever else in the house that needs cleaning, isolating her thoughts. Her friends asked her to watch a movie with them, like they do every week. She refused, like she does every week, claiming I'm busy, GranGran needs me at home, I have a project due Monday (they know this is a lie because in a town as small as theirs, they have all the same classes, but they just purse their lips and accept it). Her excuses run off her tongue easily, it's second nature for her. They've learned not to pester her, they're used to it by now.

Her grandmother isn't even home. She's having more of a social life than her granddaughter will ever have, Katara thinks bitterly. And it's true. GranGran's playing bingo with her friends, chatting it up. She wouldn't be surprised if the conversation steered towards her because that's what grandmothers do, talk about their babies.

She wonders what they're saying. _Oh, Katara, she's beautiful. _Not lately. _Doesn't she have great grades?_ Where are those going to get me? _My grandson absolutely adores her._ She's not interested. _She has her mother's eyes. _She can't look in the mirror without crying.

It's nearly eleven when she finishes polishing every dish in the kitchen, dusting every piece of furniture in the house, folding every piece of clothing, and even homework is done. Her entire weekend opens up, but it will most likely be spent in her room, drifting in and out of slumber.

Her brother snores on the couch, the TV giving the living room an eerie glow. She picks up the remote but a truck crosses the screen at an alarming pace and she can't help but freeze. A small car goes in the opposite direction, a bus pulls away from a curb, a taxi is caught in traffic.

Katara doesn't realize it's a commercial promoting the new metro until a woman says she's never arrived at her destination faster. Katara realizes this is the first time she's stared at anything this intently in years.

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Zuko hates the city. Too much noise, too many people.

He walks the streets pulling his coat tighter across his body because it's too damn cold here too. There's snow in his shoes and he wonders how the hell did it get there because with money like his father's, shouldn't his shoes be of high enough quality to keep snow _under_ his sole?

Someone bumps his shoulder and doesn't even bat an eye. He would think the whole city would know his name and apologize for even glancing at him, but the city doesn't know him, and he likes it that way.

He would much rather bury himself in snow than let the media shove him under their microscope, than let people who didn't give a damn about him scrutinize his every move, than let his so-called family and friends try to figure him out. It isn't that they don't understand them (which they don't); it's that they make him want to light himself on fire. His father, who only really cared about his business; his sister and her conniving nature; the annoying presences of her friends (why did he even classify them as his friends?). If it were up to him, Zuko would wander the streets alone in the dark forever.

And why doesn't he?

Because he has some kind of duty to the family business (he'd rather spend the rest of his life walking barefoot than spend it working at a zombie incorporation). Because when he gets back (because he will come back), it's a guarantee that a lecture and a punishment will be waiting for him and he likes being able to roam alone, forever or otherwise. Because it's wrong and his uncle has told him a thousand times _You're a good person_.

Because he's afraid.

A car honks impatiently and Zuko realizes that not only has his feet stopped in the middle of a driveway, but that they have taken him to a part of town he's been to, often actually, but it's only now that he sees where it can take him.

* * *

A girl throws on her coat, closing the door only to glance back uncertainly once, before treading into the night. When he steps into a wet puddle, a boy curses, shakes it off, then deposits the coins into a slot. Doors slide open, passengers find seats, and feelings are finally freed.

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A/n: I was trying to be... philosophical. Or something. I'm going for a Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist sort of thing, since that was what I was reading when I got the idea (last summer). Updates will probably be on the slow side since I'm a slow person, but I've been in an angsty mood the past few days so that'll compel me to write for this. Anyways. Tell me what you think and go vote in the poll on my profile, thank you. (:


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